Bedtime
by Iellix
Summary: Alice has always hated sleeping with them--the sleeping part, anyway. She's always preferred having a bed to herself. Sleeping alone. One-shot.


This ficlet popped into my head in the wee hours of the morning (sensing a trend here?) and I wrote it over breakfast. It's quite short, for me at least, but it's quite nauseatingly sweet so I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am claiming no formal profit from the use of the characters in this story. All donations must be paid in unmarked bills under the table.

o…o

She's always hated sleeping with them.

The _sleeping_ part, anyway.

She has no aversion to the old romp in the sheets—_that_ part she likes—but when they've finished she's always just wanted to sleep by herself. She doesn't want to snuggle or cuddle or have pillow talk. She just wants to sleep, alone. So she either pushes them out of bed and onto the floor—because most of the guys she's had sex with don't have her stubborn determination _not_ to end up on the floor—or else she gets up and goes home.

It's always been that way with Alice. She hates sharing a bed. There's probably some deep, psychoanalytical reason for that—a fear of intimacy or a fear of commitment leading in a Freudian manner back to her absent father. Over the years, many a disgruntled boyfriend and even her own mother have tried to make her see things that way. To make her change.

But she's never wanted to change.

That's just the way she is.

The first time she has sex with Hatter, she makes her excuses and gets dressed and leaves after. He's exhausted and doesn't have the energy to argue with her. The other times are mostly during the day and there's no implied obligation for her to sleep with him if it's still daylight. Or else she continues to make excuses and goes home where she can sleep in her own bed by herself. Because even though she feels differently about Hatter than she has about anyone else in her past—it's possible she loves him, which she's never really felt for anyone before—she still doesn't like the idea of sharing a bed.

She didn't even like sleeping with Jack, who at the time she thought she loved. He always bordered on smothering her and sometimes it felt like he grew extra arms at night to wrap her up in, and all she ever wanted to do was wriggle away and have some _space._

So she avoids sleeping with Hatter.

Until one night when she's had a little too much to drink and they have at it in his apartment—twice—and she doesn't want to risk making her way home in her condition, mostly because she doesn't know if she can remember exactly which direction 'home' _is._ So she stays the night and hopes it's bearable.

Alice inches all the way to the edge of the bed and turns her back to him to make it as hard as possible for him to try and snuggle up to her like an overly-affectionate cat—she can't very well push him out of his _own_ bed; and, after all, she's found that Hatter pushes _back._

But Hatter lies at her back, his chest just barely touching her, and his right arm draped over her hip. And there he stays, all night, breathing softly and evenly over her head. He doesn't try and smother her, or roll over on top of her and squish her, and he doesn't grow any additional arms to wrap her up in. He doesn't twitch in his sleep or stick his knee in her back, he doesn't steal all the blankets, or have suddenly _really cold feet_ that he puts on her, and he doesn't snore like an outboard motor. He's _there,_ but he's neither a malevolence nor an annoyance.

She waits and waits for her 'shove-or-flee' response to kick in but it never does. She almost feels _comfortable_ there with him and eventually she stops worrying and lets herself drift off to sleep.

Sharing a bed, even with Hatter, still isn't appealing to her but at least it's bearable so she stops making excuses to leave at night when they make love. He always sleeps just at her back with one arm around her—no more, no less. And Alice can handle that.

She's even stopped kicking him out of bed when they sleep at her place, too, even though they have to squash up together in the single-bed like teenagers. She doesn't mind it. She even kind of… _likes_ it. A little bit. Maybe.

She starts spending more and more time in his apartment, too. It used to be just a place that they'd roll around in bed, but now she's there more often. What time she once spent scouring the internet for any sign of her father, she now spends in Hatter's apartment. Sometimes she's teaching him the odds and ends about her world; other times they're watching old movies, which Hatter has taken a shine to because the men wear hats and so do most of the women. She leaves a few things there when she knows she's going to need them at some later date. It's almost like she's moving in a little bit at a time. She'll even stay overnight some nights, even if they haven't had sex.

And he's always there, at her back when they sleep, just barely touching and his arm lazily resting on her waist or her hip.

It's late, late at night and they've made it through half of a stack of movies predating the Second World War and she's about ready to fall asleep on the sofa. It's after midnight.

"Mind if I crash here again?" She asks, even though she knows she doesn't have to.

He smiles a sleepy crooked smile with that one dimple at the corner. "Is this some excuse so you can take advantage of me in my sleep?"

She gives him a gentle nudge with her foot across the couch.

"You know I don't mind, my lady Alice."

They flop into bed and it takes Alice a minute or two to realize that Hatter's not behind her and the ever-present weight of his arm isn't on her. She sits up and looks over at him. He's about half and arm's length away from her, sort of half-snuggling a pillow and drooling on it while he quickly drifts off to sleep, and Alice finds herself wishing desperately that _she_ was that pillow, a thought that shocks her.

She _hates_ sleeping with the men she has sex with. She'd always preferred someone who didn't snuggle up to her at night, she wants her own space to sleep in. She hates contact-sweat and blanket-hogs and sharp elbows and knees and cold feet and the feeling of someone breathing on her all night and being smothered and rolled over on, even though Hatter has never done any of that. She just prefers to sleep alone.

Right?

She tries to sleep but it doesn't happen, even though she's tired. She's too used to having him there behind her while she sleeps—almost touching, but not quite—and his arm just haphazardly plopped somewhere over her, like he'd just randomly dropped it there.

She's becoming really quite sappy, she thinks.

Then she frowns and sits up again and edges over to him and tucks herself next to him. He's dead asleep and the pillow is sporting a steadily expanding wet spot and Hatter doesn't wake up unless someone turns the mattress over while he's still on it, so it comes as a shock when he picks his arm up and wraps it around her.

"Finally."

His voice is husky from sleep but it's obvious he's awake.

He cracks one eye when she looks up at him.

"What, 'finally'?" She asks suspiciously.

Again he smiles, and he leans down and kisses her forehead and offers no further clarification.

"Go to sleep," he says.

And she does.

o…o

Holy schmaltz, Batman. I had planned to add a little more at the end there, but I think it ends perfectly just where it does. I swear one of these days I'll get off my butt and write a proper full-chaptered Alice-and-Hatter story, but for the time being the one-shot-machine seems to be on maximum.

Do review if you feel so inclined. Feedback is always greatly appreciated but, as always, not demanded.


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